


Posterity

by gryffindormischief



Series: alight with happiness [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:39:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7505053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindormischief/pseuds/gryffindormischief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet night with the Potters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Posterity

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt on tumblr...just had to be something to do with Lily's pregnancy. The rest was the result of a weird rabbit trail while I was walking to work one morning last week. Also posterity is my favorite word

James sat in a stuffed chair near the living room fireplace, an old pipe in hand, eyeing the intricate carvings of some unnamed glen, complete with a duck pond and swaying wild flowers. He let his hands drop to his lap, still delicately grasping the pipe, fingers running over the curved stem gently, a far off look in his eyes. The fire crackled as his young wife entered behind him, her scent wafting through the air, she placed her hand on his shoulder, gripping the woolen fabric with her thin, pale fingers, "Do you smoke then?"

A small, nostalgic grin spread across his face, still turned toward the fire, one hand rising to cover hers, the sparking engagement ring and wedding band cool under his touch, "Nah. It was my dad's."

Lily bumped her hip into his shoulder, claiming a perch on the stuffed chair, his arm instinctively shifting to wrap around her waist. She slowly carded her fingers through his inky black locks, "Never saw him do it."

James let out a small laugh at this, "Mum didn't like it, said the smell made her lose focus, and she needed her wits when Sirius and I were knocking about. So he only did it in his study, with the window cracked."

Humming her understanding, Lily remained silent, expecting James had more to say. Predictably, at least for his bride, James continued, his voice a low rumble, "Then one day I found him in there, sitting behind that old mahogany beast of a desk, potions text in one hand, pipe in the other, and it became a father son thing. But I only ever took a puff or two."

Lily placed a loving kiss on the crown of his head, "Didn't like it?"

James tightened his grip around Lily, pulling her down into his lap, the pipe secure on a waxed wood end table as he placed a kiss behind her ear, "Nah. Dad said he didn't want to create discord in my future marriage."

Fiddling with James' fingers, she placed them over her abdomen, settling into his warm, steady embrace, "Good ol' Fleamont. I knew he was good people."

Letting out a true laugh at this, James replied, "True that. Said I could do make enough trouble without the help."

"As half of that not so future marriage, I can attest to the fact that pipe smoke would have been the last straw," Lily said on a chuckle, wiggling her socked toes toward the fire to coax away the evening chill that settled into her extremities.

James shot her a look, then glanced toward the pipe again, "Maybe I should take it up. I always thought it made my dad look dashing."

Lily sighed disappointedly, "Well the hair certainly doesn't do it."

Mouth gaping and affront in his voice, only partially false, James scoffed, "I will have you know I've been told my hair is gloriously tousled and silken enough to make McGonagall swoon."

Quirking an auburn brow, Lily replied incredulously, "We've been _through_ this. The statements of drunk Sirius are not admissible in an argument."

"That's not what you said during the eggnog recipe competition of '77," James drawled.

"Being intoxicated was a necessary element of the discussion!" Lily nearly shouted, the fire flaring along with her rage.

"Oi! I give. Don't burn the house down," James guffawed, eyes alight with mischief.

Lily took a few deep breaths, slumping down into his embrace more, head curled into his neck. Slowly, she inhaled the smell of tea leaves, broom wax, and something woodsy. To this day, just over a year into their marriage, and seven years of varied levels of friendship, she had yet to discern which of these smells were natural and which, if any were the product of cologne. Wind whistled against the window panes, the glass rattling in the frames, their ginger kitten slipped in, curling in front of the fire comfortably.

James nuzzled her head, resting his cheek against her vanilla scented waves, "I knew he was older than most fathers, but part of me always assumed he would- they _both_ would-"

Lily slipped her arm around his middle, tightening her grip comfortingly, "Be here when our little one came along?"

"Yeah. I mean, he-," Lily cleared her throat, and James amended, "Or _she_ won't even have any grandparents."

Blinking rapidly, wide emerald eyes glassy with tears Lily nodded slightly, clearing her throat, "I know. I wanted to have my mum around just to, I don't know, and dad would've been ecstatic."

A chuckle broke from his chest, "Ah, yes, Mr. Evans and babies. What a sight."

"He was so excited when the neighbors had little William, the postman thought they were his kids," Lily giggled, sniffling and dabbing at her eyes with the scratchy knit of her brown jumper. Suddenly, her hands shot down towards James' lap as she shifted, knees straddling his hips.

James' hazel eyes went wide behind his wire rimmed glasses, his long fingers gripping her waist, "Getting handsy there, eh Potter? I'll have you know I like to be wined and dined first."

Lily rolled her eyes as she finally found what she'd been looking for, a steely grey handkerchief with a _JP_ embroidered in the corner, one of the projects Euphemia had taken up in an effort to fill the time after Fleamont…

Sitting back on his knobby knees, Lily dabbed at her slightly puffy eyes, "Sorry. I hate being all weepy." She blew her nose, a foghorn like noise emanating from her button nose, spattered with a few freckles from a childhood spent outdoors, making flowers bloom just by wishing, _as she'd thought at the time_ , or making mud pies for her and Petunia's very successful imaginary bakery. Customers included local squirrels and the occasional rabbit. Although the local ice cream shop turned their noses up at payments in acorns and particularly beautiful leaves, much to five year old Lily Evans' chagrin.

James placed a soft kiss to her lips, "That's ok love. You're entitled. Plus you look cute when you're all red and puffy."

Lily laughed warmly, "Thank you m'dear. So kind of you to say so."

Nuzzling his cheek, Lily placed slow kisses as she moved towards his ear, his wiry arms tightening around her back, "We'll be ok. All three of us."

Pulling back, she smiled gently, "Yeah?"

"Now back to how I'm dashing, stunningly attractive, intoxica-"

"I don't recall saying any of those. In fact, I challenged at least one within the last two hours, _vehemently_ ," Lily shot back, eyes twinkling.

James stood rapidly, Lily's shapely legs coming to twine around his middle as he strode with purpose toward the hall, hands cupping her bum lightly. Lily gripped his shoulders, "Where are you taking me you brute?"

"I feel you need your memory jogged regarding my more _spectacular_ attributes," James answered, his meaning heavy in his tone. And in case she was being particularly obtuse, he wriggled his eyebrows for effect.

"I can recall no such qualities," the young Mrs. Potter replied loftily.

Crossing the threshold into the kitchen, James slid her onto the counter, summoning chocolate sauce, three flavors of ice cream and the accompanying scoop, a banana, cherries, and whipping cream from their various locations, before plopping a large bowl and two spoons on the counter, "Let me remind you."

 

 

 


End file.
